


Down Time (Don't Let Me Down)

by EdgarAllenPoet



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Arguing, Bonding Moments, Boys Being Boys, Drabbles, Food Fights, Gen, Nightmares, Prompt Fill, Space Dad, Space Shenanigans, Tickling, and some adult supervision, cute stuff, everyone needs a nap and a hug, please for the love of god, rough housing, sad stuff, shiro needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 23:25:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11195658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdgarAllenPoet/pseuds/EdgarAllenPoet
Summary: "When Keith realized Hunk had just given him a wet willy, he actually screamed."love-life-death-dd on tumblr had some prompts, and I wrote some stuff





	1. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hunk smiled, a tint of guilt on his face, and tightened the hose with a final tug. 'Oh,' he said. 'I’m winning a game of hide and seek.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt:   
> "-Hunk and Lance play the most extreme game of Hide n’ Seek in where Lance once finds Hunk on the ceiling! (After Pidge snitched). Hunk and Lance asking everyone where the other is makes them smile. Soon the whole crew is in on it and Coran was the last one to be found… in the cryogenic pods"

Pidge didn’t know about the game until her computer floated right out of her lap.  She’d been sitting in the common area, curled up in the corner of the couch-type furniture.  It was the third day without emergencies, and they were enroute to a distress signal they’d received oh so many decafeebs ago.  Allura and Coran had tried to establish contact with a number of the planets they’d received stress signals from, and this one had been one of the first to respond.

 

Despite the mission looming overhead, the downtime was nice.  Shiro had put them through a grueling training session that morning, but afterwards the afternoon was theirs to enjoy.

 

Pidge had been pondering all day whether there could actually be an “afternoon” in space.  Ever since Shiro had said it, the question had been on her mind, acting as background noise as she tapped away at her computer, scanning files they’d recovered from Galra bases for any hint of human life beyond Earth. 

 

It was boring work, but the question kept her busy.  

 

That was probably why she hadn’t noticed Hunk until the gravity was turned off.

 

He’d been bustling around for a while.  She’d seen him from her peripheral vision, and now as she floated away from her seat, she glanced up towards the ceiling and saw Hunk tying himself to a vent grate with what looked like a rubber hose.  She wasn’t sure where he’d gotten a rubber hose in the castle, but at the moment, that wasn’t really the most pressing question. 

 

“Hey Hunk,” she asked.  Her laptop floated away, and she grabbed it at the last second, tugging it back to her and grabbing onto the back of the couch with her free hand to keep from floating away.  Hunk stopped in the middle of tugging the hose into a knot, and he glanced down at her with wide eyes. 

 

“What are you doing?” she asked.  

 

Hunk smiled, a tint of guilt on his face, and tightened the hose with a final tug.  “Oh,” he said.  “I’m winning a game of hide and seek.” 

 

Pidge wished she could say that surprised her, but as it was, that wasn’t the strangest explanation he could give.  “Let me guess,” she said.  “Lance?” 

 

This time Hunk grinned like the devil, all guilt shoved aside.  “He started it, but no.  The one you have to watch out for is Keith.  He fits in the vents.” 

 

And here Pidge thought she was the only one who could do that.  The news was slightly disappointing, but it also lit a fire in her.  She shut her laptop and wedged it in between the couch cushions, to keep it from floating away, before planting her foot on the back of the couch and shoving upward, floating through the air and smacking into the ceiling next to Hunk. 

 

“Okay,” she said.  “I want in.” 

 

And that was how Coran found them twenty minutes later.  They’d been halfway through a game of Texas Hold-em (Pidge had used a fabrication machine in the castle to create a deck of cards, because such things were essential to road trips, and when they weren’t risking their lives in the biggest adrenaline rush ever, they were sitting through a giant space roadtrip).  

 

Pidge had heard Coran’s voice from the hallway muttering, “Well that just isn’t right….”  and she’d had a split second to realize what he was talking about before the gravity hummed back to life and she and Hunk were plummeting to the floor, fifty-two cards scattering around them like confetti.  Pidge screamed.  Hunk screamed, and the hose holding him to the ceiling snapped under the weight.  Coran screamed, and Keith scrambled into the room, bayard at the ready.  

 

“What are we screaming about?” Lance asked, head poking out of the vent, which was now lacking the grating that was supposed to cover it, which had come down with Hunk’s hose.  Pidge looked straight up and saw him, then dropped her head back on the floor and wondered if she had a concussion. 

 

“Can  _ everyone _ fit in the vents now?” she asked.

 

Keith glanced around wide eyed, slowly lowering his sword and deactivating his bayard.  “I found you,” he stated.  “Do I win?” 

 

Lance’s voice echoed from the vents. “Rematch!”  His voice must have travelled pretty far, because pretty soon Allura, Shiro, and all of the space mice were convening in the common room to investigate.  If the game had been hard before, none of them stood a chance against Allura.

 


	2. Nap Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So while it was good that everyone was finally getting some hard earned rest, Shiro was handling the silence almost as poorly as he’d handled the noise. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "-A whole day in which Shiro forces everyone to take a fucking nap so he can think for two seconds. It’s nice. Too nice… he wants to talk about life with Keef"

Shiro had thought it was a good idea, and well, it had been at first. Allura and Coran had parked the castle just beyond a nearby planet’s atmosphere and headed down for a diplomatic meeting. COran had told them to “stay put and hold up the fort, as you earthlings say,” which Allura translated to mean “we’re meeting with a predator species with a very strict social conduct and a strong dislike for strangers, and we don’t want to bother with teaching you guys proper behaviors and then dancing around the inevitable disaster.”

Shiro would have been insulted had other missions not gone exactly as bad as Allura described. He agreed to stay in the castle. 

“Hold down the fort.” 

“Hold up the fort, number one.” 

“Okay.” 

Shiro had made it forty-five minutes before he started to lose his mind. That was surprising, actually. He kind of prided himseld on his patience. Sure, there were lapses from time to time, ususally in the form of Slav and Lance, but Shiro had made it to officer status at the Garrison. He’d had the patience for unmovable and unfair superior officers and sadistic early morning work out calls. He’d made it eight months in a ship the size of a tin can with Matt Holt of all people on their way to Kerberos. He’d survived a year with the Galra. 

All things considered, he shouldn’t have been so easily worn out by a handful of Garrison cadets. As it was, it didn’t take long before he was ready to murder his team. 

Lance had been whining about not getting to go explore the planet, and it was quickly getting on Keith’s nerves. Soon the two were snapping at each other, earning irritated, biting comments from Pidge. She kept turning her music up as they went on, and the noise was grinding on Shiro’s nerves. Along with that, Hunk was fretting about every single thing- from their dwindling food supply to the mission below them to the status of the castle, and honestly, it was getting ridiculous. 

Normally Shiro had the patience for all of this, but he was exhausted (they all were. This was their first chance for actual rest in several days). 

Maybe it was that, or maybe it was the residual power dynamic left over from their Garrison days (which Shiro was very careful not to take advantage of unless it was necessary (today it was necessary)), or maybe it was just because he was the head of Voltron (he doubted it). 

Whatever it was, when he ordered them to bed, they all went off with little argument. Lance offered Pidge a piggy back ride, and she glared firmly at Shiro while she climbed onto his back. 

“If we’re sleeping, you’re sleeping,” she ordered. 

That was fair, but not exactly doable. Shiro had been expecting to not be able to sleep, so that wasn’t a big surprise. He’d actually been looking forward to having some piece and quiet for a few hours. He’d thought it would be fine. 

It wasn’t. 

An hour into restless silence, and Shiro was starting to regret sending everyone else to bed. He was relieved that they were sleeping, though. He’d actually gotten up and crept around, peeking into rooms to check up. All of his fellow paladins were fast asleep, bundled up in bed and dead to the world. 

That was good. After a few hectic days of missions, they were all behind on their sleep. Even without emergencies to deal with, they were likely to be tired. Alteans ran on a different sleep wake cycle, and Allura believed in training early, hard, and often. He’d have to have a talk with her soon, because it was starting to remind Shiro of his senior year at the Garrison- everyone tired enough to curl up on any vaguely horizontal surface during any spare minute of downtime and pass the hell out. He’d found Pidge sleeping under a table, which wasn’t a big surprise. Keith dozing off in the supply closet of the training room was a bit more unexpected. 

So while it was good that everyone was finally getting some hard earned rest, Shiro was handling the silence almost as poorly as he’d handled the noise. 

He’d thought it would be fine. He’d always like the quiet, time off to himself to process things. That time had been hard to find back at the Garrison; there wasn’t a time slot for “personal time” in a strict military schedule. He’d make his own, though, usually at night after curfew or in the early hours of the morning. He and Keith would sneak out of the grounds and wander the desert, sometimes talking and sometimes just enjoying the dark together.

So maybe it hadn’t been “alone time,” but it had been nice. It had been quiet. During moments like these, Shiro missed it almost painfully. 

If he was a selfish person, he’d go and wake Keith. They could wander the sprawling halls of the castle and just be comfortably quiet together. Keith could ponder whatever it was on his mind, and Shiro could let himself forget the memories that weren’t letting him sleep now. 

Rest was easier to come by before his time with the Galra. Now it was hard to fall asleep and harder to stay asleep. He’d learned to sleep in shifts, usually getting only two or three hours at one time. The more he remembered, the harder it was to decompress and handle. 

Back when they were kids- when Shiro was a senior and Keith was a freshman at the Garrison, just fresh out of high school- Shiro had vented about his parents, about their impossible expectations and how he wasn’t sure they’d even notice if he disappeared. Keith had talked about his own family, how there wasn’t anyone left to notice if he went missing. 

Now they were both missing, so ridiculously far from Earth, and he had no idea if anyone even cared.

Shiro couldn’t sleep at night sometimes, and that used to not be a problem. He used to be a quiet, before his memories turned to nightmares that popped out from around corners when he least expected. Back when he wasn’t scared of too long hallways and shadowy doorways. Back when he could close his eyes at night and not see ships exploding into light around him, feel himself shake the way his lion had. When he could fall asleep without dreaming about the arena, seeing things that may have been nightmares or may have been memories, he couldn’t be sure. 

The silence was gnawing at him, and Shiro was aching to go wake Keith, to share the silence with someone. Just like the old days. 

But that was back a long time ago, when he had problems that were small enough to dump on someone else, when he could tell Keith what was wrong without hating himself. 

That was then, this was now. Now Shiro was a soldier, a leader. He was a survivor, and it was just like his patience. If he’d gotten through that- through military school and the loneliness of the Kerberos flight and the year or imprisonment, then he could get through this. He could get through one more night. A few more hours of silence. 

He settled down in his room and stared at the ceiling and didn’t sleep. He didn’t give into temptation. He let the others sleep; they deserved it. He could handle his demons alone for another night. Soon Coran and Allura would be back, and there’d be another mission and something else to fill Shiro’s time. 

Until then, he could wait. After all, Shiro prided himself on patience. If he could get through that, he could get through this. He repeated that to himself, over and over in his head, until his eyes fell closed on their own and he fell into a restless drowse. 

He would be exhausted later, without going into a deep sleep, but at least he didn’t dream.


	3. Rock, Paper, Scissors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “'I don’t know what’s going on,' she said, 'But it’s awesome. And very loud. I’m going to bed.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "-Hunk doesn’t want to do dishes and neither does Keith so they play a game of Rock Paper Scissors in which it turns into a battle TO THE DEATH! Keith is murdered in cold blood by Hunk’s tickles and wet willies and is shamed into doing the dishes"

Doing dishes was probably the worst thing in the entire world.  That was a pretty strong statement, considering all the shit Keith had had to put up with during his nineteen years on Earth.  He’d seen a lot of bad stuff, and he’d dealt with a lot of nonsense.  But doing the dishes?  That took the cake.  He’d spent enough Garrison detentions scrubbing pots and pans to know that- if it wasn’t horrible, they wouldn’t use it as a punishment. 

 

Keith did his best to avoid the dishes at all costs.  During holidays at the Garrison, when everyone else would head home for a recess and Keith would stay behind and haunt his dorm room, he lived entirely off a water bottle and a stack of paper plates.  Shiro insisted that he was supposed to wash the water bottle from time to time, but Keith didn’t believe him.  It was a  _ water _ bottle.  It washed itself. 

 

Duh. 

 

When he’d lived in the desert he’d had that same water bottle, a bowl, and a fork.  He washed the bowl and the fork daily, whenever he needed to use them, but that hadn’t been as much as a hassle.  He was washing them out of necessity, not washing them and putting them away. 

 

Whatever, it made sense, and dishes were the worst chore ever. 

 

It was just his rotten luck that he and Hunk were the last ones left in the dining room after dinner that night. Allura hadn’t shown up to eat at all, but she had darted in halfway through to drag Shiro away, worrying loudly about some strategy or other.  Coran had finished his own food shortly after and dragged a loudly sighing Lance away to show him a piece of equipment in the lion hangers.  Pidge was technically still in the dining room, but she was dead to the world and asleep face first on the table.  Keith didn’t have it in him to wake her.

 

So, when it came down to it, he knew what he had to do. 

 

He’d tried to just run, hoping to dart away to his room without drawing Hunk’s attention. That plan failed quickly, when Hunk grabbed him from behind and hauled him back through the doorway. 

 

“Oh no,” he’d said.  “No way.  You’re not leaving me with this.  I helped cook, you help clean.” 

 

That was fair, in a way.  Keith knew it was fair.  That didn’t mean he liked it. 

 

Coran had cooked dinner (mostly by himself), and Keith didn’t know how he’d dirtied  _ so many _ containers and utensils while cooking something so bland.  Maybe Keith had been hanging around Lance a bit too much lately, or maybe he was just lamer than he’d let himself believe.  Either way, when a plan popped immediately into his head, he decided to go for it. 

 

“Rock paper scissors,” he said, spinning to face Hunk and holding his hand out.  “Winner takes all, loser does the dishes.” 

 

Hunk studied him suspiciously for just a moment before grinning with what looked like grim determination.  “You’re on.” 

 

Keith knew there was a chance he might lose.  He hadn’t known that he was going to make a fool out of himself. 

 

“Okay, no,” Hunk said, after their third unsuccessful attempt.  “You go on shoot.  It’s rock, paper, scissors,  _ shoot _ .” 

 

“I  _ did _ that,” Keith argued back, knowing full well that he hadn’t. 

 

“Try it again,” Hunk said.  They did.  Rock, paper, scissors, and Keith tried to do scissors, but he was so focused on timing it correctly that he didn’t even make the correct shape with his hand.  Hunk was normally pretty patient about these things, but tonight he stared blankly at Keith’s hand for a good ten seconds before speaking. 

 

“Dude, what the hell-” 

 

“I don’t know.” 

 

“Try it again.” 

 

“No, this is stupid.  Just never mind.”  Keith turned on heel and  _ tried _ to walk out of the room, figuring he’d done enough damage that night so far.  He was going to go sit alone somewhere and stare at his hands and figure out why they’d betrayed him, what he’d done to deserve this.  Hunk grabbed his shoulder before he could leave.  

 

“Wait a second, we aren’t done here!  Come on, one more try.” 

 

And well, Keith  _ really _ didn’t want to do the dishes, and rock paper scissors was  _ his _ bad idea in the first place.  He sighed and slunk back over, resigning himself to another round of humiliation.  

 

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot-”  

 

This time, at least, he got both the hand motions and the timing right.  Unfortunately, he and Hunk both held out rocks.  He frowned.  Hunk laughed. 

 

“Try again.  Rock, paper, scissors, shoot-”  This time it was both scissors.  Keith glared at their hands.  They tried again, and again.  Paper, scissors, rocks again.  After five ties in a row, Keith threw his hands in the air.  

 

“Oh my  _ God! _ ” 

 

“Try again,” Hunk urged, holding his hands back out.  Keith wasn’t about to tie six times in a row.  He pushed Hunk’s hands down and out of the way.  Hunk laughed and shoved at his shoulder.  Keith shoved him back, a little harder than he’d meant to.  Hunk took a step back and caught his balance on the counter, one hand landing directly in a bowl of leftover food goo.  He frowned down at his hand, and when he turned his attention back on Keith, his smirk was deadly. 

 

“Oh no,” Keith said, backing up when Hunk took a step forward.  “Don’t even-” 

 

But then Hunk lunged for him, and Keith scrambled away from him and skidded around the kitchen counter.  He picked up a dirty spoon and catapulted something gross and slimey at Hunk, hitting him right in the forehead.  Hunk grimaced and wiped it off with the back of his hand, and that’s when Keith knew he was in for it. 

 

“Oh it’s  _ on _ , now.”

 

What started as a simple game of chance turned into a full fledged war, both of them scrambling all over the kitchen and launching whatever they could get their hands on at the other.  Hunk got him in the shoulder with an egg type thing they’d picked up a few planets ago, sending shells cracking to the floor and covering him with a gross smelling ooze.  Keith split a banana shaped fruit in half and squeezed, sending the grapefruit like contents splattering all over the front of Hunk’s shirt.  

 

Hunk still had food goo coating his hands. He darted forward and tried to grab Keith, and Keith planted his hands on the counter and threw his legs over, launching himself perfectly over to the other side.  He landed on his feet, but he hadn’t been expecting the slippery mess they’d made on the floor to be an obstacle.  His heel hit first, and instead of rolling to the balls of his feet and bolting, Keith’s legs slipped out from under him and he landed flat on his back. 

 

He barely had time to pick himself up off the floor before Hunk was tackling him back down, both of them wrestling each other and getting absolutely covered in food goo and fruit and eggs and whatever else they’d thrown around.  Something like flower toppled off the counter, creating a puffy cloud above them and giving them a bit of friction.  Hunk used the friction to finally grab a hold of Keith, and Keith saw his demise in the split second before it happened. 

 

Hunk’s fingers dug into his sides, and Keith shrieked.  

 

“No!” he yelled, his own voice foreign in his ears.  “No!  Mercy!  Hunk, stop!” 

 

Hunk didn’t stop, continuing his tickling assault despite Keith’s struggling.  Keith found himself pinned to the kitchen floor, hips trapped between Hunk’s knees and entirely trapped under the other’s weight.  Hunk moved his hands down from Keith’s ribs, instead digging into the fleshy part of his sides.  Keith kicked his legs and howled in laughter. 

 

“Hunk!” 

 

“Give up yet?” Hunk shouted back. 

 

Hunk jabbed his fingers into Keith’s armpits, and Keith squealed, “No!” amidst a fit of flailing and hysterical laughter.  He’d meant it to be  _ ‘no, don’t _ ’ but it sounded more like,  _ ‘no I don’t give up _ .’  

 

When something gross slimy prodded into his ear, and Keith realized Hunk had just given him a wet willy, he actually screamed.  Then there was a noise, something very similar to a camera shutter going off.  Hunk and Keith both froze, looking up towards the source of the noise from their position on the kitchen floor.  Pidge was standing in the doorway, looking half-asleep and ruffled, and holding her phone out in front of you. 

 

“I don’t know what’s going on,” she said, “But it’s awesome.  And very loud.  I’m going to bed.” 

With that, she turned around and shuffled out the door, mumbling the word “gay,” under her breath as she went.  Keith didn’t want to think about it. 

 

Hunk laughed under his breath, pushing up off the floor and climbing to his feet.  He reached down, took Keith’s arm, and pulled him up to with a graceful tug.  “I’ll wash the dishes if you wash the rest of the kitchen,” he offered, and hell.  Anything was better than washing the dishes. 

 

Keith grinned and wiped at his ear.  “Deal.  I’ll race you.” 

 

“I’m not Lance,” Hunk said, but he wasted no time picking up a scrubbing tool and getting to work.  Keith worked quickly as well, not quite catching his breath after the battle they’d had.  He was glad Shiro and Allura weren’t there to see it, though, because then they’d device some sort of training exercise about “resisting sensory attacks” or something.  Lance would never let him live it down. 

 

Imagine his disappointment when he got back to his room about an hour later and saw a message for him waiting on his information pad.  The pads were an Altean technology, similar to tablets on earth, but much more efficient.  They had them hooked up to exchange messages back and forth amongst each other, and waiting for him there was a video file direct from Pidge, showing a good deal of their battle from earlier, specifically Keith losing. 

 

You win some, you lose some. 

 

At least he hadn’t had to do the dishes.


	4. Girl Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It made sense that Allura was a jock. Something just felt right about that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from the prompt: "Allura and Pidge have a talk about girl stuff finally! Turns out they don’t have much in common and it quickly turns awkward. Pidge then relays fond memories of her parents and Allura shares hers too. Maybe they do have something in common…"

Let it be known that a sprained ankle was the only thing keeping Pidge from joining in on the pissing match currently going on in the castle's halls. 

 

It wasn’t an actual pissing match because, um, ew.  Her teammates were immature sometimes, sure, but they weren’t  _ that _ bad.  Allura probably would have killed them if any sort of bodily functions took place in the hallway.  Pissing match was merely a phrase.

 

What was really going down was more like an ice skating, water balloon fight, human pinball extravaganza.  Pidge wasn’t sure exactly what they were doing, but God damn it, they were going to do it better than everyone else.  Apparently. 

 

Something had gone haywire with the castle’s temperature controls, and while Pidge preferred the frozen spell they were going through over the two whole days of blistering heat, she thought the ice coated floors and walls were a little bit of an inconvenience. 

 

Especially since the hallway was now filled with boys. 

 

All of them were getting into the game except for Coran, who was deep into the castle’s engine room muttering about rust and wear and swearing a lot in Altean.  

 

Back in the common room, Pidge watched on a security feed as Shiro yelled “catch!” and shoved Keith, sending him gliding expertly down the slick hallway. Lance darted out of the way and pitched a spore blob as hard as he could.  After figuring out they weren’t toxic or dangerous in any way, Lance and Hunk had set up a small nursery and grown some from the remnants of their first spore encounter.  Pidge watched as Lance bumped into Hunk and sent him down  _ hard _ , but not before his thrown spore hit Shiro square between his eyes.  She had to mute the video when Shiro shoved off the wall and started chasing Lance down the hallway, seeking revenge, because Lance’s screaming was so damn loud. 

 

It was loud enough that Pidge didn’t hear Allura come in until she was already there, sitting down on the couch next to her.

 

“Hey Princess,” Pidge said, setting aside the pad she’d been watching and leaning back against the couch. The muted video continued to play on the screen as it lay on the cushion between them.  Allura stared down at it for a moment before sighing and shaking her head.  

 

“They really are foolish sometimes,” she said.  Pidge laughed and nodded. 

 

“At least they’re having fun.  This is better than all the whining about the heat yesterday.”

 

When Pidge said that, Allura’s eye twitched.  The memory was obviously still rather fresh in her mind.  “You’d think humans have never encountered heat before.”

 

Pidge thought unenthusiastically of blistering afternoon workouts at the Garrison, about their night spent in Keith’s stuffy little shack, and about their hike through the desert searching for the Blue Lion.  She cringed.  “We’ve definitely encountered it,” she answered.  “We just don’t like it.”

 

Allura nodded, and Pidge considered her presence there. She wondered if Allura needed help with something, or if there had been some breakthrough with the temperature controls.  

 

She asked, “Is there anything I can help you with?” 

 

And Allura’s face lit up, smile coming over her as if she’d just been reminded.  “Actually, since all the boys were busy I was thinking we could take the chance to talk!”  She sounded rather excited about the idea.  Pidge was filled with a sudden sense of dread. 

 

She almost regretted asking, even as the words were just leaving her mouth.  “What did you… want to talk about…?” Pidge asked.  Allura beamed back. 

 

“There aren’t any other girls on the castle,” she said.  “And we might have a lot in common, I thought.  I used to have a number of girlfriends before the war.” 

 

Pidge was almost 100% certain that Allura was using the word ‘girlfriends’ the way old women tended to, referring to “girls that were friends” and not actual romantic partners.   _ Almost _ 100% sure.  The war didn’t leave them much room for romance, and Keith got kind of shy and blushy whenever they talked about those kinds of things.  Between that and Lance’s dramatic retellings of his romantic endeavors, they tended to avoid the topic of conversation entirely.

 

So whether Allura had “girlfriends” or  _ girlfriends _ or both was unknown, but Pidge decided to treat it like the former. 

 

“Oh,” she said.  “Yeah, I didn’t really have any.” 

 

She hadn’t had many friends come to think of it.  Her brother’s friends, and the boys on the robotics team.  She’d had a few classmates that might have counted as friends, but she preferred to spend her free time alone, anyways.  Allura, apparently, didn’t agree.  Her ears drooped a bit. 

 

She recovered quickly.  “I bet you were very busy with activities,” Allura said.  “What do you like to do for fun? Any sports?” 

 

It made sense that Allura was a jock.  Something just felt right about that.  Pidge shrugged.  “Eh… I did dance, once, when I was like eight?  It was my mom’s idea.” 

 

“I love to dance!” Allura exclaimed, clapping her hands once in front of her.  Pidge puffed her cheeks out and looked away.  

 

“I’m horrible.” 

 

“Oh,” Allura said, once again drooping.  “What else did you do?”

 

Pidge thought back to the hours she’d spent learning to code and burning through the library and playing video games.  “Um….” She scratched the back of her neck.  “I built robots.” 

 

It was really more interesting than that, and Pidge was sure Allura would love to hear the rules of combat for the robot fights they held.  She also knew Allura would find the size and the tameness of the competitions rather bland, and that Pidge would get too involved with explaining actually tech stuff, and the conversation would be lost completely.

 

Instead she asked, “What sports did you play?” and let Allura launch off into a tangent. 

 

Apparently Allura had been  _ quite _ the jock before the war.  She danced, learned combat, and played a number of competitive sports with other Alteans.  A good number of them sounded brutal.  Fun to watch, maybe, but terrifying to participate in.  Somehow, they got back on the topic of dancing. 

 

“We had such formal balls, back then. Everyone would dress up nicely.  The gowns were exquisite.”  Allura’s voice has whimsical quality to it as she spoke.  Pidge tried to understand her fondness. 

 

“I used to wear dresses,” she said.  “I don’t know, my mom liked them.  They were okay for indoors, but you can’t really move around in them.”  She shrugged and adjusted her glasses on her nose.  “I don’t really like dressing up.” 

 

“If you ever change your mind, you could try on some of the old dresses in my wardrobe.  I know I have something that would fit you.”   

 

The offer was nice, but Pidge could already hear the teasing she’d get from the guys.  That alone wasn’t worth it, plus with her current outfit being the only clothes she had with her from  _ Earth _ , she wasn’t so quick to change.  It was weird, but she was sentimental about that for now.  She wasn’t ready to dress up like an Altean yet, unlike Lance, who took every chance he got.   

 

That gave her an idea.  

 

“I think Lance would have more fun with that,” she said.  “You two should have a beauty day.” 

 

Allura, to her credit, actually considered that for a moment.  “He does have good sense of those things,” she said.  Pidge nodded.  “We’ll see.” 

 

“I think he actually likes it out here,” Pidge said, not sure where the confession was coming from, but desperate to save the conversation from being painfully awkward.  “I knew him back at the Garrison,” she continued, “And he wasn’t quite as open about things there.  Like, don’t get me wrong, he was just as obnoxious, but I always thought he was just a fuckboy.” 

 

Allura didn’t ask what a fuckboy was.  Pidge didn’t clarify.  Maybe the translators caught it.  They were magical, after all. 

 

“But he’s softer out here.  That’s weird, huh?  Since we’re in a war.  But maybe it’s ‘cause there’s no pressure to be anything else.”  She thought about herself, who she’d been at home.  Who she’d had to be at the Garrison.  

 

“Sure, he’s homesick.  We all are.  But we’re also kind of free out here.  We can be entirely who we are.” 

 

Allura listened patiently through Pidge’s rant, nodding politely as she spoke.  When Allura opened her mouth to reply, Pidge was already gearing up to give a speech about gender and expression and how she wasn’t exactly sure where she fit in anymore, but maybe that was okay, and maybe in the void of space it didn’t matter.  Allura probably wouldn’t have answers, but Pidge wanted to ask if she could still be a girl without being the kind of girl she’d been growing up, if she was still a girl when most of the time she felt and acted like one of the boys.

 

She was fourteen, damn it.  These things were hard at that age. 

 

When Allura actually spoke, she shifted the conversation entirely.  All for the better, probably.  Pidge didn’t want to dump all of that on someone who’d been frozen in time for ten thousand years.  She’d go talk to Shiro about it later.

 

“You all really do miss home, don’t you?” Allura asked instead.  Pidge took a moment to think about it. 

 

“Nothing is familiar out here,” is what she answered eventually.  “Even each other…  some of us were strangers before coming to space.  Now everything has changed and we’re never in the same place for more than a day.  We’re never  _ anywhere _ most of the time.  It’s a lot to take in.”

 

“Plus the war,” Allura added, words sinking heavy like a blanket over the room. 

 

Pidge nodded.  “Yeah, that too.  More than anything, though, I just miss my family.” 

 

Allura sighed and leaned back in her seat, slouching for what was maybe the second or third time since Pidge had met her.  She ran a hand through her hair and said, “As do I.”  Pidge nodded glumly. 

 

“I’m sorry you lost them,” she said. 

 

“I’m sorry yours are lost,” Allura answered.  “But hope will keep us going.  They’re out there, somewhere.” 

 

Pidge knew that.  She repeated that to herself on the daily, remembering everything she’d seen and all the work she’d done to get here.  She thought about her mother waiting back home and knew she couldn’t go back too unless she brought back her whole family.  Her mom had seen too much heartbreak for Pidge to go home empty handed. 

 

But she’d said enough about those kinds of things, and it was weighing down on her.  She was  _ tired _ .  She glanced down and let her attention catch on the pad resting between them, still playing security footage from the hallways.  

“If we used a chair like a sled, we could totally destroy all of them,” Pidge suggested.  She glanced up at Allura and saw the Altean’s eyes  _ glow _ . 

 

“Let’s do it,” she said, and so they did.  Pidge was damn near deaf from Lance and Hunk’s screaming, but they came away from it with all four boys absolutely covered in spore goo and a triumphant smile lighting both of their faces.  Allura’s smile practically split her face open, and Pidge decided that maybe girl time wasn’t so bad after all. 

 

She also wondered if Allura was open to the idea of actual girlfriends, and how one would go about wooing a dazzling space princess.  Maybe she’d ask Lance for pointers.  Maybe she’d just keep this one to herself for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That feeling when you slip a ship into the very last paragraph. #lesbianpidge
> 
> thanks for reading, homies!


	5. Space Dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He was a grown up. He’d spent nineteen years on Earth and another two floating through space. He could handle a damn nightmare."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "-Shiro is having horrible nightmares and stays up with Pidge to get away from them. They end up having a bonding moment and Pidge accidentally calls him ‘dad’. Shiro is touched. He’s promised not to tell anyone that ever happened" 
> 
> So this doesn't exactly follow it, but the idea is basically the same. Shiro has a lot of feelings. He is both too young and too old for this bullshit.

 

One second Shiro was tied to a harsh metal table, the next he was shooting up like a rod.  His chest was heaving to catch his breath.  His head was spinning and he was disoriented, because he was definitely not in the Galran lab he’d been in seconds ago. There was no immense pain left over, and Shiro started to get a grasp of where he was as the nightmare started to fade to the back of his mind.  

 

The room was dark, but nothing was glowing red. The surface he was sitting on was soft and warm, not metallic and freezing.  There was a blanket draped over his waist, something the Galra would never be kind enough to grant him.  Nothing hurt.  He was fine. 

 

He picked his head up and glanced around the room, trying to place his surroundings, and that’s when his attention caught on the person sitting a few feet away from him, glowing and unnatural. 

 

His blood turned cold. 

 

Shiro jumped back with a yelp, arm activating itself by its own accord.  He flinched so hard he threw himself off the couch and onto the floor.  His glowing arm pulled back and grazed his other, slicing right across the flesh of his forearm.  He immediately recoiled with a hissed in breath because of the sharp sting of a new burn.  

 

His arm deactivated.  He clutched at his wrist. Pidge’s head snapped up. 

 

“Oh shit,” she said, and Shiro would have mentioned something about  _ language _ , because seriously. When had kids her age started cussing? He was a bit too distracted, and she wouldn’t listen to him anyways. 

 

“Shiro, are you okay?” she asked, and while she set her computer aside and stood, she didn’t step forward.  She hesitated the way any of them would, having learned well what can happen if you surprise him out of a nightmare or a flashback or a panic attack.

 

Shiro hated that she knew that.  Hated that she was so accustomed to that.  He hated more the way she was looking at him right now, so he nodded.  The other concerns would have to wait for another time. 

 

“I’m fine,” he said, trying not to let his voice sound tight.  “Just a burn.” 

 

Her face told him she wasn’t convinced, her eyebrows still furrowed in concern and eyes still wide.  The computer, which was providing the only light in the room, had half of her features glowing in a soft blue.  Her hair was wild and knotted, clothes wrinkled, face worn with exhaustion.  She probably hadn’t slept at all then. 

 

He was opening his mouth to mention it when she said, “I’ll get the first aid kit” and darted out of the room.

 

Oh well, he’d have to bring it up later then.  He hated that they lived in a world where she thought she needed to take care of him.  Part of him hated himself. 

 

But self-deprecation never helped situations like this. That, like so many other things, apparently, would have to wait.  He picked himself up off the floor and sat gingerly on the edge of the couch as Pidge came striding back into the room, first aid kit in hand. 

 

“Okay,” she said, “Let me see.”  She sat next to him and waited for him to hold his arm out, then went to work at it with the concentration of a seasoned surgeon, as if she wasn’t a fourteen year old bandaging a second degree burn. 

 

It stung like a bitch, but part of being the Older One, the Leader, was not letting onto those things.  If he got worked up over something as simple as a burn, he didn’t deserve to be in charge.

 

“This isn’t too bad,” Pidge said casually.  Shiro nodded. 

 

“It’s not.” 

 

“You looked pretty spooked though.  Want to talk about it?” 

 

“It’s nothing,” Shiro answered, feeling cornered and defensive and more than a little bit guilty about both of those things.  “Nothing I can’t handle.” 

 

Pidge looked up at him over her glasses, which were slipping down her nose. She said, “I never said you couldn’t,” with a frown.  “But if you want to talk about it-” 

 

“I don’t need to talk about it.” 

 

She fixed him with a blank expression that resembled her brother’s to a T.  Shiro had seen plenty of that look, back in the day.  “If you  _ want _ to,” she repeated.  “It’s okay to talk about these things.  We all have nightmares.” 

 

Shiro stared back at her evenly and ground out, “I’m a grown ass man.  I can handle it.” 

 

_ That _ got her angry.  “Oh, what?” she snapped back.  “And the rest of us can’t?” 

 

“That’s not what I’m saying.” 

 

“You might as well have.” 

 

“Listen.  I’m an adult, okay?  I can handle this sort of thing by myself.” Shiro’s argument was perfectly reasonable.  Pidge wasn’t listening. 

 

“Oh, right.” She rolled her eyes for all the world and crossed her arms over her chest.  “You’re not that much older than me.” 

 

Five years was a lot of time, and one of those years had been enough to set him miles above the others.  War or not, there were things he’d been through, things that aged him, that they couldn’t even imagine.  That he didn’t want them to be able to. 

 

“Older enough.  You’ll understand when you’re my age.”  _  If they all lived that long.   _ The thought came out at Shiro grew furious at himself, shoving it back with all his mental energy.  No.  They  _ would _ live that long.  Shiro would see to it. 

 

“Oh shut up,” Pidge snapped, shoving herself up from the couch and heading for the door. 

 

Shiro was too invested in this argument by now.  He stood.  “Hey!  Don’t walk away from me!” 

 

Pidge’s reply was instantaneous, loud and bouncing off the walls of the room.  She shouted, “Just leave me alone, Dad!”  Both of them froze in their tracks.  Shiro stared at her, mouth slightly agape as he processed what she’d just said.  Pidge stared back with wide eyes and a firmly shut mouth.  They spent a long time regarding each other before they both started to laugh. 

 

It wasn’t a lot, but even a gentle laugh was loud in the silent room.  Shiro dropped back down on the couch and let his head fall into his hands.  He heard the click of the room’s lights being turned on and the gentle padding of feet crossing the room. 

 

“Sorry,” he said, not picking his head up.  He needed a moment.  “I shouldn’t have shouted at you.  But God, sometimes you sound just like your brother.” 

 

“Family trait,” she muttered.  “We love to argue.” 

 

That got him to look up, grin playing at his lips.  “I know.” 

 

“You sound just like my dad sometimes,” she grumbled, sitting down on the couch with a generous bit of space left between them and crossing her arms again.  “You don’t have to treat me like a child.”

 

“I know.  I’m sorry.  Sometimes I forget.” 

 

“You forget that we’re soldiers?  You forget about the war we’re fighting?” 

 

Shiro could only beg and pray to forget about those things.  “I forget that you’re all mature beyond your years.” 

 

A devious expression crossed over Pidge’s face, and Shiro knew exactly who she was talking about when she said, “Well, not all of us.”  He’d defend Lance on a different day.  She deserved to have some humor right now. 

 

“I forget that about you too, y’know,” she continued.  “I knew you from stories Matt told me, or my dad.  You were that cadet my parents would have over to dinner sometimes.” 

 

_ I don’t think I’m even that same person anymore _ , is what Shiro thought.  He didn’t say that, though.  Pidge didn’t deserve to have that type of insecurity dumped on her, despite what she said she could handle.  What she was going through was already hard enough, and he had already burdened her with the nightmare in the first place.  Shiro could never with good conscious make anything harder for his men, whether it was Pidge or Coran.  Whether they were fourteen of five hundred thirty-seven.

 

Instead of that, he said, “Commander Holt was like a father to me. I used to hang off of every word he said.” 

 

“No wonder you sound so much like him,” Pidge replied with a tone so disgruntled it was really only achievable by someone her age. 

 

Shiro chuckled and bumped their shoulders together.  “Just wait until we get him back.  Then you’ll have to put up with the two of us.” 

 

“And Matt,” she said, scowling.  

 

He grinned.  “And Matt.” 

 

They were quiet for another moment.  Pidge reached over to her laptop and quietly shut the lid.  Shiro leaned down and picked his discarded blanket up off the floor.  He folded it and set it aside. 

 

“Hey,” Pidge interrupted, voice hesitant.  “Don’t tell anybody about the ‘dad’ thing, okay?” 

 

Shiro couldn’t help but reach out and ruffle her hair.  “Don’t sweat it.  Keith’s done that about half a dozen times.” 

 

He shouldn’t have given her that information.  She looked far too pleased with it.  He decided the smartest option was to get the both of them to bed as fast as he could manage, despite his hesitation towards closing his eyes again. 

 

He was a grown up.  He’d spent nineteen years on Earth and another two floating through space.  He could handle a damn nightmare.

 

He told himself that every night.  It was hardly any condolence. 

 

That was why, when Pidge insisted on following him into his room and made herself at home in his bed, he didn’t say a word of argument.  She curled up happily against the wall, stealing one of his pillows and wrapping herself around it.  He slid under the covers next to each other and let his eyes drift shut.  

 

He was reminded once again of Matt, who would occasionally crawl into his bed at the Garrison for an impromptu sleepover, and of Keith, who’d once been young enough to sneak into his room at their foster parent’s home after bad dreams, and sometimes when they were older, too.  He was always more of a squid, though.  Pidge kept to herself, cuddled up happily with the pillow and the wall for company.  Shiro rolled onto his side facing the edge of the bed and appreciated the company of the sleeping lump next to him.  He reminded himself to breathe, in out, in out, timing it with Pidge’s steady breathing next to him. 

 

It took him a while to fall asleep, but somehow, he still felt safe.  This time around he didn’t dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro wakes up in the morning to find not only Pidge in his bed, but also Keith. He doesn't know when Keith snuck in, or how he did it without waking Shiro (who, thanks to the Galra and military training is the lightest sleeper EVER). He doesn't even mind the foot digging into his back (Pidge) or the strangle hold of limbs wrapped around him (Keith). He just takes a deep breath and goes back to sleep. He's not sure whether they need him to stay, or he needs them. Either way, his morning run can wait.


	6. Pranks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Allura was soaked, Shiro was frozen to the spot, and Lance was running like the devil himself had lit him on fire."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "Shiro and Lance play pranks on everyone all day. Allura is about to order them to stop until they invite her to join. Who knew she’d turn on them???????? (Pidge did)"

There were three people who could strike the fear of God into Lance.  Though many people tried- Zarkon, Iverson, and Hunk when the occasion called for it.  Shiro tried harder than anybody, and Lance had to give him props for that.  He pretended it worked more often than not (and damn, sometimes the guy could be awful menacing). 

 

But no, in all reality there were only three people who could actually, truly scare the hell out of him with a single glance: His mother, Mrs. Rejes from the third grade, and more recently, Allura. 

 

Lance should have seen this coming.  

 

He hadn’t expected Shiro to join him.  In fact, he’d been damn sure that his Lista del Diablo was about to have four people on it when he’d accidentally dumped that bucket of water on him.  It was the classic water bucket over the door trick, and he’d been  _ trying _ to get Coran when Shiro walked in.  

 

Lance had run as fast as his blessedly long legs could carry him, but Shiro worked out several hours every day and had him beat.  Lance was damn sure he was going to die when Shiro finally caught up and tackled him to the hallway floor, but then Shiro had been laughing so hard his face was red.  He caught his breath, dazzling smile making him look years younger. 

 

“I want in,” he said between pants, and if Lance hadn’t been so distracted by Shiro  _ pinning him to the floor _ and  _ panting _ (Jesus fucking Christ, this was one for the spank bank), he might have considered the consequences of his actions more. 

 

As it was, seeing Shiro’s terrified face was absolutely worth it in the end. 

 

It turns out that Shiro was amazing at pulling pranks.  Lance wouldn’t have guessed it in a million years, but Shiro was absolutely diabolical.  Lance had planned on filling various closets in the castle with balloons (harmless, filled with an element similar to helium that would cause them to bounce about and disrupt the victim’s search), but Shiro had the genius idea of filling the training bot hatches with  _ water _ balloons, and well… that was just 100% better.

 

They’d been aiming to prank Keith, which wasn’t something Lance would have expected either, several months ago.  But the more he got to know Keith and Shiro, the more it became obvious that they were basically surrogate brothers.  They’d known each other  _ forever _ , and well, what were brothers for if not brutal and unmerciful practical jokes?

 

Lance had five siblings.  He was a prank war  _ veteran _ , and Shiro was an absolute genius.   “Brawn  _ and _ brain!” he’d exclaimed, and gotten smacked upside the head for it.  With both of them working together and the gravity turned down low, it only took them about forty-five minutes to get all the water balloons filled and tucked away.  The training bots had been moved to the space  _ under _ the training deck instead (after a very creative, absolutely hilarious hybrid game of bowling), easy to retrieve once the game was done. 

 

They’d been trying to get Keith. 

 

They didn’t take into account how often Allura actually trained.  It was a quite frequent habit, ever since the fight with Haggar.  Allura was still trying to get the hang of her magic, and sharpening her already deadly skills with a bow staff.  The days when she joined the paladins for sparring were both Lance’s most and least favorite days.

 

So when Allura had strode into the training room and announced “begin training sequence” towards the ceiling, it had been too late to stop the impending disaster.  Shiro had tried, leaping out from their hiding place behind a stack of tumbling mats.  Lance had cringed and peaked out afterwards, and Shiro was saying “stop-!” just as a hundred or so watery orbs descended. 

 

Allura was soaked, Shiro was frozen to the spot, and Lance was running like the devil himself had lit him on fire.  Allura’s eyes spoke of murder, and Lance knew better than to stick around and face the music.  Shiro was strong.  He could handle this one himself. 

 

They were airforce, not marines.  “Leave no man behind” was a nice message, but it wasn’t one of their most valued virtues.

 

Besides, they were all deserters anyways.  

 

So Lance had expected some sort of cleaning duty, a firm talking to, or even a few punishing matches in the sparring ring.  He hadn’t expected to find every item in his room fastened firmly to the ceiling.  And by every item, he meant  _ every _ item.  He’d nearly knocked himself out trying to cut down his mattress (Hunk had helped him. Sweet, sweet Hunk).  

 

He’d also found his shower entirely coated in shaving cream (or at least some foam there like it), a vengeful gift from Shiro for abandoning him in the line of fire. 

 

That was fine.  A prank war against the  _ both _ of them, as well as Coran, wouldn’t be the worst thing ever.  They were going  _ down _ .  And if he and Shiro teamed up to sew the arms of Keith’s jackets shut, well… 

 

This was a ten thousand year war, and as they say- all is fair.


	7. Easy Bake Oven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " Hunk looked utterly betrayed by that suggestion. 'We are not using noodles as bread!' "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was gonna be light hearted and like one hundred words max, but it turned into four pages with a dash of angst??? I don't know what happened????
> 
> prompt: "-Hunk and Pidge are baking and eating all day. It’s surreal."

Everything was perfect, and something about that felt very, very wrong.  

 

Shiro and Keith had gone down on a mission, scouting out a local market and reporting back with field notes.  It was a low-risk planet, Galra nowhere insight, hadn’t been for centuries.   They’d taken a transport pod down, not one of the lions, so they wouldn’t be recognized, and a trip to pick them back up (just in case) would barely take any time at all.  So everything there was fine. 

 

Lance and Allura were together somewhere in the castle, having what Lance was calling a “girls’ day.”  Pidge wasn’t about to touch that with a ten foot pole, but they seemed pretty happy with themselves.  So everything was fine with that too. 

 

Coran was up in one of the other wings of the castle, going through old rooms and reminiscing with the memories he found hidden there.  He’d invited the paladins to come along, but it was pretty obvious that he didn’t want to be interrupted.  He’d been up there for hours. 

 

So everything was fine there.  Sad, maybe, and they’d have to check in on Coran later to see how he was doing -they’d probably set Lance on him, because he knew how to deal with glum moods like no else.  Sometimes his jokes were annoying.  More often than not, they were a welcome distraction.  So maybe the situation wasn’t ideal, but it was still fine. 

 

Everyone was busy, and the schedule was clear, leaving Hunk and Pidge to their own devices.  

 

Pidge had found Hunk in the kitchen.  She’d meant to grab a pouch of water and leave, but he’d lured her in with the smell of baking.  It was actual baked goods this time, not just iridescent blue discs.  Hunk had learned from past mistakes, and after a lot of trial and error and some consulting with Coran, he had every container in the kitchen labeled, both by name, taste, and function. 

 

The result was some pretty bomb ass cookies. 

 

“Try this one,” Hunk said, holding up a batter covered spoon for Pidge to taste.  It was pink and pulsing slightly with light, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing she’d ever eaten in space. It tasted exactly like pears, which was weird.  She wrinkled her nose up and smacked her lips. 

 

“Not bad?  More like a jelly than a cookie, though.”  She handed the spoon back, and Hunk tilted his head to the side and tasted.  

 

“Huh….  Now we just have to create peanut butter.” 

 

“And bread.  We could use those noodle things as bread.” 

 

Hunk looked utterly betrayed by that suggestion.  “We are  _ not _ using  _ noodles _ as bread!” 

“It’s carbs though.”

 

“Slimey carbs!” 

 

“Oh my God.” 

 

They ended up staying in the kitchen for hours.  Pidge’s ever-going timer told her it was around 4 a.m. back on Earth, but time there didn’t have any impact on time in space.  Not anymore.  Through the months they’d been gone, they’d become acclimated.  Central Castle Time was somewhere in the early evening.  Keith and Shiro should be returning back soon.

 

By the time Lance and Allura made their way to the kitchen, both of them sporting matching bathrobes and face masks, there were half a dozen different trays of baked goods laid out around the kitchen.  Cookies and “brownies” and two attempts at a cake- one successful, one less so.  There was a vat of something that was supposed to be peanut butter but tasted like cucumbers, and an entire bowl of lime flavored marshmallows. 

 

Allura snagged a cookie and Lance claimed the tub of marshmallow, and they made themselves comfortable on the kitchen floor.  Pidge swung her legs happily from her seat up on the kitchen counter and picked crumbs off of their failed attempt at a cake.  It rolled like play-dough under her fingers.  She was going to make a ball.  

 

“You know what I miss?” Lance asked, peeling his face mask off bit by bit and flicking the white flakes into the now empty marshmallow bowl.  “Crema de vie.  Help a brother out, buddy?” 

 

Hunk chuckled and shook his head.  “I don’t think I can make eggnog without poisoning us,” he confessed.  “I’m pretty close to figuring out that banana thing though.  Platana something?” 

 

Lance gasped and sat up.  “Cazuela de platano!  Hunk, I love you.”

 

Hunk smirked.  “I know.” 

 

Allura looked puzzled.  She reached up on the counter and took another cookie.  “What’s a banana?” 

 

Lance clutched at his chest.  “God’s gift to fruit.”

 

“I’ll show you when I figure the recipe out, Princess,” Hunk replied.  “Do you remember that sponge thing we found a few planets back?  The purple ones?  It’s kind of like that.” 

 

By the time Keith and Shiro returned from their mission, both of them sweaty and red in the face and still dressed in their paladin armor, Hunk had ten different trays spread out around the kitchen.  Pidge had eaten her body weight in cookies, but she kept herself firmly rooted on her spot on the counter.  Lance wasn’t even trying anymore, laying flat on his back on the floor.  Hunk had to step over him every time he went to the oven, but he didn’t look like he minded much.  Allura had disappeared for a while and returned with a chair from the dining room. 

 

“Hungry?” Hunk asked them.  Pidge could basically see Keith’s mouth watering.  Shiro’s eyes lit up.  The two of them combined took out three entire trays of cookies. 

 

When Coran turned up and hour or so later, looking a little red around the eyes but otherwise intact, Keith was tinted green from overeating and Shiro was comfortably dozing in a chair he’d set up next to Allura.  

 

“I ought to teach you some classic Altean recipes,” Coran said, poking suspiciously at the play-dough cake.  “Ever had Mother’s Surprise?” 

 

Keith gagged a little at that and sunk down on the floor next to Lance, pulling his knees into his chest.  Lance visibly shuddered.  “Coran, my man, I don’t ever want to find out what that actually is.” 

 

“Lance…” Shiro said, a warning tone to his voice. 

 

“It sounds dirty.” 

 

“ _ Pidge _ .” 

 

“How does it sound dirty?” Coran asked, but nobody would give him an answer.  

 

All of them there together, just hanging out, not under any time crunch or sense of urgency, was probably the most relaxed Pidge had felt in a long time.  There were projects she was neglecting, sure, and files she could have been sorting through, but they wouldn’t spoil from one afternoon.  The whole time they spent there, she was waiting for a distress call to come through, for some kind of alarm to call them to action. 

 

None came.  

 

They stayed there, enjoying each other’s company and Hunk’s cooking.  It felt almost familial, which was a thought that had Pidge’s stomach churning.  They were a family of sorts, sure.  They lived in each other’s pockets practically, they’d stopped having secrets from each other months ago.  They were close the way you only could be with people you lived on top of, and while they definitely were a surrogate family for each other, acknowledging that thought made Pidge feel a little bit sick. 

 

She had a family, and she’d lost them.  She was looking for them.  They were out there somewhere. 

 

She hoped they would be back together someday, that they could spend days like this in the kitchen, just lounging around and goofing off.  But in reality she didn’t know who they would all be when they made it back to Earth.  She didn’t know if they would still know each other, if they’d even be able to let their guard down this much. 

 

This kind of bonding might not even be possible. 

 

They might not all make it back to Earth. 

 

They might  _ never _ make it back to Earth. 

 

Leave it to Pidge to wreck a perfectly good evening, but this was one train of thought that always came back to her.  She loved the team, of course she did, but this was temporary. 

 

She loved her family, more than anything, but they might just be a memory. 

 

It was easy to forget, to be distracted, when there were missions and battles and things to do.  But afternoons like this, where everything was calm, let the anxieties back in.  She kind of hoped for a distraction, but looking at the blissed out faces of those around her, she knew it’d be selfish to wish for one. 

 

Everything was perfect, and it felt very, very wrong.  

 

She squeezed the play-dough cake harder in her hand and refocused on Keith and Lance bickering on the kitchen floor, Shiro and Allura balancing cookies on their noses, Coran and Hunk squinting at a label on some foreign spice or another.  She took a deep breath and told herself to enjoy it.  Peace didn’t come often, and they’d be back down to business soon enough.

 

And maybe one day, far in the future, everything could actually be perfect again- whatever that would mean.


	8. Pop Quiz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " That’s when Pidge set this whole thing in motion. She said, 'Man, this would make a great personality quiz. ‘What percent black paladin are you?’' "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "-Allura and Keith and Lance all take a quiz (made by Shiro) on who would be the next black lion incase Shiro died of stress. Turns out all three are equally capable and Allura plots to murder the boys for being as superior as a princess"

The quiz had ultimately been Pidge’s idea.  It started with Keith and Lance, the two of them bickering over the responsibilities of the black paladin.  

 

“All I’m saying,” Keith said, rubbing his forehead as if the conversation was giving him a headache.  It sure was giving Pidge a headache.  “Is that  _ anyone _ could be the black paladin.” 

 

“The personality traits for the lions are pretty ambiguous,” Hunk had agreed nervously, looking like he’d rather not get into it.  “And we’ve proved that we can fly each other’s lions, if the bond is right.  It’s not like the colors really matter, right?” 

 

Allura hadn’t liked that answer. Her voice was all business as she insisted, “The bond between lion and paladin is sacred!  Each of you has a role specific to yourself that has to be fulfilled.  It’s highly personalized.”

 

“Thank you,” Lance had exclaimed, throwing an arm out with gusto.  “That’s what I’m talking about.” 

 

“But if we  _ had _ to, anyone of us could do it.  Obviously some of us would be better suited than others,” Keith said.  Hunk nodded.  Lance plastered on his signature grin. 

 

“I’d make a rockin’ black paladin.” 

 

What had really set it off, what had put the whole thing in motion, was Keith’s laugh.  Lance didn’t do well with being laughed at, and Keith didn’t turn down a challenge.  Soon the two were going back and forth, turning the mind numbing road trip (space trip?) conversation into a nerve grating road trip argument. 

 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Shiro had eventually snapped.  Pidge had seen it coming, from the way his jaw tensed and his eye twitched.  They’d been together for a while now, and while Shiro wasn’t exactly mellowing out, he was getting a little bit easier to read.  Maybe it was familiarity.  Maybe he was just letting some things slip.  Either way, it was pretty obvious that Shiro was done.

 

“Either of you would make great black paladins,” he placated.  “End of discussion.” 

 

Lance wasn’t letting it go that easy.  “No, not end of discussion.  Not everyone is a natural leader.  Like Allura said, it’s personal.” 

 

“Allura would make the best black paladin out of all of us,” Keith grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.  He, much like Shiro, was apparently not a fan of this conversation.  Allura looked flattered, and a little bit startled. 

 

“The lion chooses the pilot,” she reminded. 

 

Hunk said, “That doesn’t mean we can’t guess.”  And that’s when Pidge set this whole thing in motion. 

 

She said, “Man, this would make a great personality quiz.  ‘What percent black paladin are you?’”  Lance’s eyes gleamed with that, face alight with mischief.  Coran pulled up a floating screen, some sort of computerized white board, and started drawing names up.  Keith dropped his head into his hands and groaned.  Shiro gave a resigned sigh. 

 

…

  
  


“You’re by yourself in the castle when you hear a strange noise coming from down the hallway,” Shiro said, slouching down in his chair (Officer Takashi Shirogane, Garrison golden boy,  _ slouching _ .  Hell must have been freezing over somewhere).  “What do you do?” 

 

Hunk’s reply was predictable and immediate.  “LEave.” 

 

“Am I in my armor or no?” Pidge asked.

 

“Hide and wait for it to come out,” Lance said.  Pidge remembered the story he’d told about facing off with the “haunted” castle, about hearing “Coran” shouting down the hallway and getting shut in an airlock when he went to investigate it.  Considering that, Pidge didn’t blame him for his answer.  HIding was a pretty good option, all things considered.   As a second thought, he added, “Or call for backup.” 

 

Keith and Allura answered together in the exact same tone of voice.  “Go inside,” they said.

 

Shiro rubbed his hands over his eyes.  “Lance gets two points for safety,” he told Coran, and the older man marked it on the board he had pulled up.  “Keith and Allura both get one.” 

 

“That’s fair,” Hunk said, nodding.  Pidge was pretty sure he didn’t want to be the black paladin anyways, and Pidge hadn’t even answered the question. 

 

“You find yourself stranded without any form of communication.  What do you do?” Shiro asked next. 

 

“Find the nearest planet,” was Hunk’s answer.  “Or like, build my own communicator.  It’s pretty easy to transmit through space.”

 

Pidge had to agree with him there.  She said, “Sit still and wait.”

 

“Fly back from where I came from,” Keith answered.  “Duh.” 

 

“No, you fly in the direction you were already headed.  Why double back if you’re on the right track,” Allura argued.

 

Lance tapped his finger against his chin and hummed.  “Not going to lie, I’d probably take a nap first.” 

  
  


…

  
  


Pidge didn’t think the game was ever going to end.  She was starting to hope they reached their destination early, because even starting a mission (a surveying mission, lots of walking, lots of boredom) was better than listening to this go on.  Hunk and Pidge had eventually dropped out, tiring of the game.  They’d managed to wrack some points up, which was reassuring, but Allura, Lance, and Keith were out for blood.  Pidge didn’t want it that badly.

 

“Stab them!” Keith yelled.  “That’s the only thing that makes sense, they deserve it.” 

 

“Stab to kill or stab to maim?” Allura asked, serious question.

 

Lance rolled his eyes and said, “Can’t we just leave?  Why bother, honestly?” 

 

It went on for quite a while. 

 

Some time later, Pidge wasn’t sure how much later, Shiro called the thing to a close.  He’d been out of ideas for a while now, pulling questions out of his ass like the world’s most disinterested dungeon master in an unfortunately blood thirty DnD campaign. 

 

“So that’s….” Coran tapped at the board and muttered under his breath as he counted up the tally’s in Altean.  “Aha!  Twenty-nine for Keith, thirty for Lance, and twenty-nine for Allura.” 

 

The uproar was instantaneous.  “What!?” Allura demanded.  “How is that possible!?”

 

Lance, on the other hand, was overjoyed.  He howled with laughter, drumming his heels on the floor and throwing his head back.  “I told you!” he cheered.  “I knew it.  Who’s the next black paladin?  That’s right.  It’s me.” 

 

“It’s just a quiz…” Keith grumbled, but he looked pretty perturbed as he glared at the board.  Allura recounted the tallies.  Keith rolled his eyes  _ more than once _ at Lance’s antics. 

 

“How?” Allura demanded.  “How does he have more than me?  Shiro, your quiz was a dud.” 

 

Shiro looked a little bit helpless.  “I just made it all up?” 

 

“The results don’t lie, Princess,” Lance cheered.  “I’m the most capable.  A born leader.  The decisive head of Voltron.” 

 

Keith muttered, “More like the decisive di-” but was cut off by Shiro smacking him across the back of the head.

 

“This is ridiculous,” Allura complained.  “I demand a rematch.” 

 

And, well, if they were going to do this, Pidge was going to help them do it right.  “Let’s design a proper quiz,” she volunteered.  “Outline the attributes suited for the black paladin and have a number of questions assigned to match each.” 

 

“And a fair scoring system,” Hunk added.  “I’m sorry, Shiro, but you’re not entirely objective.” 

 

Pidge nodded.  “It’s for science.  We have to be accurate.” 

 

“I’ll get another information pad,” Allura decided, nodding, and whirled out of the room.  Shiro sunk back down in his chair in defeat.  

 

“Keith,” he said, voice tired.  “If I don’t make it out of here-” 

 

“Don’t even,” Keith cut him off.  All the while, Lance was still dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I'm going to write all of these. What can I say? love-life-death-dd has some great prompts. Go check them out.
> 
> If there's anything you'd like to see me write, come drop me a line on tumblr. Punks-n-rec. Or like, put it in the comments ^-^


	9. You Break It, You Buy It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " Considering the amount of times they shrugged him off and saw, 'Nah, Hunk, it’s fine, stop nagging us,' they kind of had this coming. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt "-Hunk, Shiro, and Allura are having to act like actual parents with the small children (Pidge Lance Keith) start accusing each other of breaking Coran’s stuff. The three parents are done™"

Hunk didn’t know who broke it, and at this point, he didn’t care.  He’d warned them.  He’d said, “Hey guys, be careful with that,” and “Maybe we should ask before digging around in dusty Altean closets,” but did they listen to him?  No.  Did they ever listen to him?  No.  

 

And he’d told them off the first time.  He really had.  Sure, they hadn’t  _ meant _ to knock the late king (Alfor’s father)’s portrait off the wall and shatter the frame, but they shouldn’t have been horsing around in the Cooridoor of Kings anyways.  Hunk had told them that too.  Did they listen to him?  No, and then Hunk had had to bear the brunt of Coran’s disappointed anger. 

 

He was  _ not _ responsible for this one, and he was  _ not _ listening to another lecture.  

 

He’d told them not to, but they hadn’t listened.  Pidge had still climbed up on Lance’s shoulders to pull a storage bin off a high shelf, and Keith had been messing around with Lance while she’d done it.  Next thing they knew the bin was crashing to the floor and the room was littered in what had to be a hundred shattered memory disks (who knew Alteans used CDs?).  

 

Considering the amount of times they shrugged him off and saw, “Nah, Hunk, it’s fine, stop nagging us,” they kind of had this coming. 

 

They stared wide eyed at the broken discs, millenniums of information shattered to bits on the floor.  Hunk regarded the mess, glared at his teammates, and stepped back into the hallway. 

 

He yelled at the top of his lungs, “SHIRO!” 

 

Keith, Pidge, and Lance went scrambling.  

 

“Dude, what the  _ fuck!?”  _ Lance demanded, waving his arms around like a crazy person.  Pidge and Keith threw themselves onto the floor and started frantically scooping ruined CDs back into the box.  Pidge hissed in a breath through her teeth when she cut her hand on a shard, but Hunk didn’t feel too bad for her.  She kind of deserved it.  

 

“Dude he’s going to  _ kill us _ !” Lance exclaimed.  Hunk hadn’t seen that level of panic on him since that time his mom caught them sneaking out in eleventh grade.  He’d told Lance that time too, that the party wouldn’t be worth it, that they’d better not.  Did he listen?  No. 

 

“Shiro, D-hall, come quick!” Hunk shouted, ignoring the panicked squawking noise Lance made in response.  

 

Seconds later Hunk heard the sound of pounding feet, and Shiro and Allura were skidding around the corner as they scrambled to see what was going on.  They were obviously prepared for an emergency, and Hunk would have felt bad about that if he wasn’t pissed.  He waved at them to slow down, demeanor calm, before turning back to the room with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. 

 

“What’s going on?” Allura demanded.

 

Lance actually squeaked in fear. 

 

Hunk had no mercy.  “Why don’t you ask them?” 

 

Watching them get their just desserts was the greatest thing Hunk had ever seen.  

 

“Who did it?” Shiro demanded, arms crossed over his chest.

 

“And why are you in the storage closet in the first place?” Allura added, sounding furious.  

 

There was a long, drawn out pause as the three troublesome paladins glanced between each other and Allura and Shiro with wide eyes.  Keith caught Shiro’s eye and immediately dropped his gaze to the floor.  Pidge was staring carefully off into space.  Lance looked like he was about to fidget out of his skin. 

 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Lance was the first to break. 

 

“Keith did it,” he said, pointed finger and all.  Looking at him, you wouldn’t think this was a young man with months of time in battle and a year of extensive military training.  He looked like a guilty little boy.  In fact, he looked exactly the same as Hunk remembered when they were both little boys and Lance was dragging him off to get in trouble. 

 

Some things never change. Lance being a troublemaker?  Never changes.  Keith getting sucked into arguments?  Also never going to change. 

 

“What!?” Keith demanded, whirling to face Lance.  “Are you kidding me?”

 

“Um, no?  This was totally your fault,” Lance argued.  Keith bared his teeth at him. 

 

“Pidge was the one who dropped it!” he shouted.  Pidge stared blankly at the wall.

 

“I had absolutely nothing to do with this.” 

 

“Why would you blame me?” Keith asked, pushing into Lance’s personal space.  Lance pushed back. 

 

“You’re Shiro’s favorite!  He’s less likely to kill you!” 

 

“Everyone knows Pidge is the favorite!” Keith argued.  Pidge grinned a bit at that.  Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighed. 

 

Hunk had seen enough at that point, he decided. He could tell by the way Allura’s jaw was twitching that the consequences would be unholy and abundant.  He stepped carefully out into the hallway, ignoring the betrayed look Lance was throwing him.  He was immune to puppy dog eyes at this point.  He meandered down the hallway towards his own room, deciding to avoid Coran as well and let someone else break the news.  Coran’s unbridled rage was not something he wanted to witness right now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next day in training Allura and Shiro make them run laps until they throw up. Hunk thinks it's terribly unfair that he's made to participate in this. Pidge is sweating from every possible pore by the end of it. Shiro runs the laps with them just to remind them how out of shape they are and knock them down a peg.
> 
> Coran never finds out about the discs. It's best that way.


End file.
